


A Clan of Two

by Another Wayward Cowgirl (viajeramyra)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: A Clan of Two, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Father-Son Relationship, Fix-It, Found Family, Fuck Canon, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Canon Fix-It, Spoilers for The Rescue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:55:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28155705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viajeramyra/pseuds/Another%20Wayward%20Cowgirl
Summary: Armor and skin stripped away with ribboned curls, taking their time as they ripped away the seconds of security he’d enjoyed.Grogu wasn’t looking at him.And just like that, it was over.
Relationships: Din Djarin & Grogu | Baby Yoda, The Mandalorian & The Child
Comments: 32
Kudos: 321





	A Clan of Two

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently, my new thing is to have my heart ripped out by fandom and immediately throw myself into fix-it fanfiction. 
> 
> I've not written Star Wars for a long time and I've never done anything for the Mandalorian, so I'm sure it's a jumbled mess. But, I had to put these feelings somewhere and couldn't sit around waiting for season 3 to maybe (or maybe not) bring Grogu back to Din.

It was a sinking feeling, the kind that burned until nothing but ash remained in a pool where embers had once glowed brightly. The shot from the blaster ricocheted from this armor, the Child, _his_ Child, _darling Grogu_ safe. With Moff Gideon unarmed and unconscious on the floor, there were no threats left. He shouldn’t feel this way. Armor and skin stripped away with ribboned curls, taking their time as they ripped away the seconds of security he’d enjoyed. 

Grogu wasn’t looking at him. 

And just like that, it was over. 

He couldn’t breathe, he simply couldn’t breathe. But Din found his way to his feet again, fist clutched at his side as they watched the Jedi fight their way down the halls. One by one, the Droids were cast aside with little more effort than it took to blink. His eyes blurred, unfocused. In every fight, he’d always found the upper hand. But Gideon had been right. Without the Jedi, everyone in this room would be dead. Without the Jedi, Grogu would still look as frail and broken as he did in that cell. Without Din… well, very little changed if he had not arrived. They would’ve lost the war, with no one to put a stop to whatever happened before they arrived. 

When Grogu did turn his head, it wasn’t towards him. His large eyes found the barricaded door, as though already filled with anticipation and excitement. Din’s throat bobbled, the scream trapped inside his lungs. His knees buckled, his weight far too heavy to support. 

_Thump. Thummmp. Thummmmp._

His world stopped moving, the paralyzing feeling capturing every essence, every thought, every word of denial frozen in time. Memories and regret latched around his throat, squeezing the last of the air from his lungs. His Creed meant they belonged together, meant they would travel and move as one— until this very set of circumstances. In the days that followed losing Grogu, he’d forgotten the very purpose of their trip. When he placed him on the rock, carefully following Ashoka’s instructions, Grogu had made his decision. Din couldn’t change the Kid’s mind. It was not his place. Every decision life handed him had been lost to the Mandalorian, his personal saviors in the midst of war. 

The Jedi were Grogu’s. Not him. 

_Not him_. 

It couldn’t end like this. He’d only just got Grogu back. A world of promises, a sea of declarations, all muted by the simple presence of one Jedi. 

He’d been told they were an enemy race. Now, he understood why. 

He held Grogu tighter than before, as though it would encase the feeling of the Child against him forever. Din knew nothing was built to last, knew the warmth of their bond would blow away in a heavy wind. Emptiness rattled him, called for him, wrapped around him like a cold blanket of snow. His bones froze, each step more painful than the next. Pins and needles prickled his nerves, and yet, he pushed forward. 

Guns were trained on the door, as though they were still under the threat of attack. Well, in a way, he supposed they were. Or, at least _he_ was. Din knew in the mesmerizing way the Jedi captivated Grogu there was nothing to fear for everyone else in this room. Their paths diverged, his future now marked by the Darksaber and not the Child in his arms. 

“Open the door,” he ordered, as the last Trooper was thrown from the frame. The sadness in Cara Dune’s eyes only jarred and jolted him further. Though everyone else had yet to see what would happen, she knew as well as he did. The first tears pricked his eyes, the fire burning his lungs. 

Din wanted to scream as he placed Grogu down to open the door. He longed to thrash, kick his legs, and pound his armor, to be heard at that moment. _You won’t take him!_ If he actually said the words, no one else moved. 

Grogu’s hand kept touching the screens, already reaching out to one of his own. Din sacrificed, had given all that he could to take back what Moff Gideon had stolen away. His feelings, his loyalty, his priorities didn’t match what the Jedi could give to Grogu. The Child was gifted, _special_. For all his own specialties and niches, Din always knew he would not be able to provide. The Mandalorian way was not the Jedi way.  
  
He stepped away, stood between the Jedi and _his_ Child. Words were exchanged, a confirmation he didn’t need. The paradigms of his world shifted beneath his feet, the pull of his loneliness calling back from another time. He didn’t want to revert, didn’t want to turn back the clock to the times before the Child came to be an integral part of his life. They found each other... were beginning to build something all their own. If he hadn’t failed, if he had been selfish and didn’t listen to Ahsoka, if just one moment of their time together changed, perhaps he wouldn’t be standing here.  
  
Grogu shied away behind the chair, eyes looking up at him rather than the Jedi. Din closed his own as he looked away, the tattered pieces of his heart trying to feed him false hope as he said, “he doesn’t want to go.”  
  
But that wasn’t true, was it? Grogu knew as surely as Din where he belonged. It was _he_ who was afraid of letting go. He was the one whose life would never be able to go on. He’d come so close, so damned close, to being allowed to keep some semblance of happiness in this damned galaxy. His life before fixated on one job after the next, alone and broken. He knew unparalleled joy now, held onto the promise of Grogu’s smiles and laugh accompanying him through his journeys. He traveled all his way, furiously determined to right the secular wrong he made.  
  
“He wants to go. He wants your permission.”  
  
Din refused. If it was that easy to avoid ripping himself apart, then, of course, he would pick that option.  
  
But for all the reasons he loved Grogu, he knew he had to let go.  
  
“It’s okay, Kid. You can go.” Each word pricked like a knife, sharper and more brutal than each punch, each jab he’d taken as he fought his way back to Grogu.   
  
The little hand reached for his mask, the display of comfort as he read each of Din’s emotions. He didn’t want to set him down, didn’t want to separate and bring an early end to this moment. But, each second tore another piece, chipped and dug deeper at his ability to let go at all. The little hums reassured him, made him long for the possibility this was not their final goodbye.  
  
Time had to bring them together again.  
  
He couldn’t survive if it failed to do so.  
  
Din placed Grogu on the floor, the emptiness swirling inside him as everything around him crashed to a halt. Every one of his senses fought against the decision, strangled cries lost behind the cold mask. It was better to be indifferent, better to appear as though everything was right in the world while he slowly died alone.  
  
Only, _something_ latched onto the curved metal covering his calf. The weight shifted, almost clinging. It couldn’t be that simple. He refused to look, refused to feed the potential there was another choice in this life.  
  
“He chooses you,” the Jedi said.  
  
His eyes fluttered open, eyelashes stuck together by sticky tears. He tilted his head down, finally taking in the view of Grogu wrapped around his leg. Once, he’d done the same, out of fear for letting go. At that point, he had been too young to understand what all life meant. Grogu didn’t seem that way moments ago. No, this was born out of guilt, at the seamless way the Child seemed to understand his feelings. He wouldn’t allow his own loss to impact what was best for Grogu.  
  
“I can’t train him. He… he needs to be trained. Ahsoka told me…”  
  
“She mentioned a chance for him to surrender his powers.”  
  
His head pounded, urgently begging him to accept the second chance to keep the Child. He smothered the words, buried them in seeds of denial. It wasn’t fair and he knew it. “I can’t ask that of him or of the Jedi. It is your way.”  
  
The Jedi smiled softly as he nodded his head. “And I cannot force a decision he does not want for himself.”  
  
The thud of Beskar hitting the floor clamored throughout the room. Din knelt, scooping Grogu in his arms in an instant. The Child stood on his knee, the little hand reaching out to rest on newly exposed skin. Warm tears painted his face, his forehead bumping against Grogu’s as they _hugged_. This was his world, his purpose. He rose to his feet, Grogu cradled against his chest. “Thank you,” he whispered to the Jedi before his attention was lost to his Child once again.  
  
They were, after all and forever, a Clan of Two. 


End file.
